


Honestly, Honesty (Never Worked for a Boy Like Me)

by maccabird_23



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF, Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, Witch Curses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-13 15:19:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12986859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maccabird_23/pseuds/maccabird_23
Summary: “Fine. I love Armie Hammer. He’s my true love. Is that good enough?” Timmy bit his lip, swallowing back tears as he moved the phone away from his face so Ansel couldn’t hear him getting choked up. He wanted to curse out everyone. That fucking witch, Ansel, Armie, himself. It was hard enough to admit you loved someone. Harder when you knew they didn’t love you back. And near fucking impossible when they loved someone else. And the worst part was…





	1. Chapter 1

 

“True Love Tent, six-o-clock,” Liz hooted, taking Timmy by the hand and yanking. For such a small woman she had the strength of a bull. Armie followed close behind. Timmy took a moment to have an out of body experience and visualize what a sight they must have made. Liz, with the hem of her French Victorian dress bunched in one hand, dragging a skinny pumpkin into a tent while an overly tall Robin Hood shadowed them.

 

All of them crowded into the tent; space already too small for Liz’s extravagant, bustle dress, let alone for two six-foot-plus men. Armie’s chest pressed close to his back, the wool of his costume spreading warmth from his neck to his thighs. Did Robin Hood wear wool?

 

“Ready to find out your true love’s name, Timmy?” Armie’s breath was hot against his ear, the question just for him, quiet but excited. His skin turned to gooseflesh, cheeks heating under the scrutiny as he closed his eyes, wondering if this was all just a mistake.

 

Just a week ago they were in London promoting their movie, going through the second leg of their media tour. “How many more junkets?” Timmy had asked, resting head in hand, elbow-bumping Armie’s sturdy shoulder. For his part, Armie gave him a blinding smile, squeezing his thigh, an act of comfort that just made Timmy more uncomfortable.

 

Maybe it would just take more time, more experience he thought. But Timmy had yet to master the art of lying naked in bed with someone for days at a time and then just getting up, leaving it all behind. He was still stuck in the latter part.

 

“After this, we’ll take a break.” Armie had whispered, giving Timmy a private smile. How many words had been said, smiles given that was just between them. Not for anyone else in the world. “There’s this Halloween carnival down in Texas near where Liz grew up. It’s crazy. Everyone dresses up. Carnies tell your fortune. You’ll love it.”

 

 

Timmy hesitated, smile pressed. He’d spent almost every Halloween with his family. Going door-to-door and then, when he and his sister were too old, spending the night in, watching scary movies and giving out candy. It was familiar, safe even.

 

And as much as he adored Armie and Liz, whenever he entered their orbit, the gravity that pulled them to one another, he just felt too small. Like it would just be too easy to get lost in their magnetism without them even noticing.

 

It didn’t stop him though. Didn’t stop him from reaching over and grabbing Armie’s too big hand, squeezing it between his fingers and giving him an encouraging smile and nod. “Sounds fun.”

 

“This is just like that episode of ‘Charmed.” Liz whisper-yelled. The entire Hammer family had a real problem with hiding their enthusiasm. As a New Yorker, Timmy found it charming. It was too easy to be an asshole. Just thinking about it -- _as a New Yorker_ – he kind of felt like an asshole.

 

“Oh, can I be Cole? And you can be Phoebe. And Timmy can be… one of those weird, gray demons that Leo had to fight in the manor.” Armie pointed to himself, then Liz and then Timmy. He rolled his eyes, elbowing Armie not so gently. He could take jokes at his own expense but really, any in-joke that couples shared were uncalled for.

 

“How much for three people?” Liz asked the graying woman, who sat stout, balancing atop a rickety chair, a wooden barrel full of water obscuring most of her face. She narrowed her eyes, taking in all three of them, probably calculating how much she could pull from dumb city folk.

 

Timmy wondered if that was a stereotype. Maybe just thinking it was offensive to carneys. Was carneys even a politically correct term anymore? Maybe it was like hobos. You could only use it if you were writing a period piece. Timmy’s breath caught somewhere deep in his lungs as her deep, dark eyes caught his. She arched an eyebrow and waved a wrinkled hand in his direction.

 

“For the noodle boy its free. For you two… five dollars each.” He could feel more than hear Armie laugh at his side. He would have been offended if he hadn’t just spent the last minutes calling the woman a snake-oil salesman in his head. Karma was a bitch.

 

“Do you accept debit? Credit?” Timmy turned, watched Armie take out a platinum card and watched as Liz rolled her eyes heavenward, the old woman letting out a harrumph. “I don’t take imaginary money.” Armie opened his mouth, probably to say something that would get them all kicked out but Timmy saved them all the trouble, extending a twenty.

 

The old women took it, making it disappear into the folds of her dress. “Ten for now and ten for later.” Timmy wrinkled a brow, not bothering to tell her that they wouldn’t be back. There wouldn’t be a ‘later.’ She gestured for Liz to come closer. “You will pick an apple from the barrel. I will peel the skin and let it drop into the water. What letter takes shape will be the first letter of your true love’s first name.”

 

Liz let out a very un-Liz like giddy squeal. As if the idea of finding out her true love’s first name was actually exciting. Like she hadn’t already known for years. Maybe, Timmy thought, maybe it was the idea of having some higher, unknown power confirm it. Maybe it was the fear that it wouldn’t, of the unexpected still being a possibility. Maybe Timmy was overthinking it.

 

“But I warn you. Once the letter has dropped the name will appear in your heart and head. You must say this name at once. If you do not then the ghost of your true love will haunt you until you admit it out loud.”

 

Liz took her time; letting the cuff of her beautiful dress soak in the water until she found the apple she wanted, handing it over to the carney to peel. It took less than a minute and they all leaned forward to watch the peel sink and pop back up, taking the form of a red, letter A. Timmy glanced at Liz’s face, a warm smile settling across her mouth. “Armand.” Timmy felt the smile on his own mouth like it was contagious, Liz’s happiness seeping into him like a warm day.

  
Armie was next, and as he bumped Timmy’s shoulder he whispered, “Wish me luck.” He had to laugh. What luck did Armie need? Being the showman or truthfully the huge toddler he was, Armie stuck his entire arm into the barrel, right up to the shoulder. Liz smacked him twice, once on the head and another on the shoulder for good measure before mumbling “idiot.”

 

The woman seemed unperturbed as Armie handed her a bruised and somewhat scarred apple. “That’ll do just fine.” Timmy watched as the peel dropped into the black water, heart stopping for a beat as the red flesh separated in two, both pieces sinking. Timmy eyed Liz and Armie, their faces mirrors of confusion. Had something gone wrong?

 

The apple peel bounced, floating on top of the water, rocking back and forth like it wanted to sink back down. Timmy leaned forward. It looked like a weirdly curved C, maybe an L if you squinted. “Uhm…” Armie asked, confused but stopped as the second peel slowly floated to the top, pushing itself in between the C and suddenly both peels were very still. Together it was clear as day, a perfect, red letter E. “Elizabeth.” Armie chimed, almost as if he was relieved.

 

“Your turn, noodle.” Timmy would have been annoyed if his stomach hadn’t been turning with nerves. He told himself, repeated in his head like a mantra, ‘This isn’t real. It’s all snake-oil.’ But how could he explain, handwave the perfect E? Sure the A could have just been luck. Why was he even so nervous? There were billions of people in the world. Any letter and any name might appear. What were the chances…?

 

He dipped his hand in, taking the first apple he touched. Maybe if he didn’t try then the whole thing wouldn’t work. Like in chemistry class when you added too much base to an acid and couldn’t get a neutral. Timmy rolled his eyes, handing over the apple. Leave it to him to try and botch up his own love fortune.

 

He watched the carney cut into the flesh, carving out a perfectly shapeless peel before dropping it into the water. It sank just like the others had. Maybe it wouldn’t come back up. He hoped, maybe it’ll just stay at the bottom of the barrel, hiding whatever secrets it held, just as embarrassed as Timmy himself by what the truth might be.

 

No such luck. The peel bounced to the surface forming a rather large A before staying perfectly still like it was proud at its own announcement. Timmy scrunched his nose as something tickled at his ear, like Armie’s breath had just a moment before but more disconcerting. An itch that spread to his hair follicles, forming something both unwanted and wanted in his head. “Uhhh…” Timmy started then stopped, taking a breath and focusing his tongue like he had to force the next few syllables out “Ansel.”

 

There was a long silence that followed. A gasp coming out of Liz’s mouth and Armie letting out a strangled, “really?” He eyed the carney in his peripheral, not brave enough to look at her. She played with the hilt of her knife, slowly tapping it on the edge of the barrel. She sent a glare towards Timmy that was sharper than any knife.

 

_What the fuck had he just done?_

 

“What are you wearing, beautiful?” Timmy grimaced as Ansel’s voice came on the speaker. He rolled over in bed, lowering the sound on his phone, almost tempted to hang-up and text that he’d butt dialed by accident. He took survey of what he was wearing before answering.

 

“An annoyed frown and yesterday’s underwear.”

 

“Kinky. Let me unzip my pants.”

 

“I’m hanging up.”

 

“I’m in my trailer. I got half-an-hour before I meet my trainer. What do you want Tiny Timmy?”

 

Timmy flinched at the self-given nickname. High school had been over three years ago but the memories still seemed to come back at random to bite him right in the ass. It didn’t help when one of those memories was on the other side of the phone, waiting to mock him once he confessed what he’d done. “Okay, I might need your help. I did something dumb but you can’t laugh.”

 

It was actually cathartic in a way to spill all the little embarrassing details to Ansel. Timmy had spent the last two days since he’d come back from Texas cooped up in his own head. Replaying that day, those few minutes in his head. Everything he could have said. Everything he could have done differently. Like throwing the entire barrel of water on the floor before the letter A could pop up and make a run for it. He shook his head, immediately crossing out that option. He didn’t have the upper-body strength to pull that off.

 

‘So…” Ansel started before breaking off to spend a good minute laughing. Timmy expected nothing less.

 

“So a gypsy…”

 

“Gypsy is an offensive term.”

 

“So this old witch told you Armie Fucking Hammer is your true love?”

 

“Pretty much.”

 

“But his wife was there and you didn’t want her to know you're trying to make moves on her man.”

 

“I’m not…”

 

“You slut!”

 

“I didn’t tell them because they’re my friends. And I don’t want everything to get…” Timmy waved his hand in the air, trying to encompass everything that would go _wrong-bad-wron_ g if he ever admitted how deep his feelings for Armie went. He only succeeded at swatting the fly that had been trying to land on his phone.

 

“I get it. But that still doesn’t answer at least TWO questions I have.”

 

Timmy sighed. At least Ansel was being a bit more sympathetic than he imagined he’d be. Small mercies. “Shoot.”

 

“Do you have like a boner for me or…?” Timmy was wrong or right depending on how you looked at it. Ansel was still the douchebro he was in high school and when they filmed ‘Men, Women and Children’ together.

 

“What even?”

 

“It’s like, you didn’t say Armie but like the next name to pop into your overly-large curly head was Ansel. You have to at least be carrying some wood for me.”

 

“I don’t think…” Timmy waved his hand in the air, slowly curling it into a fist and imagining it was Ansel’s neck. “… you get how this True Love Fortune works.”

 

“Enlighten me.”

Timmy let out a grunt. It wasn’t like he could really explain it. He wasn’t Harry Fucking Potter. He’d never taken Potions 101 or whatever the fuck. “It’s like my heart and head wanted me to say Armie’s name so bad that when my mouth refused the universe decided to punish me by making me say your name.”

 

“Bullshit. Admit it. If the wonderfully, perfect, handsome Armand Hammer is your hashtag: onetruelove then little, old me, Ansel Elgort is your second choice.”

 

Timmy closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and biting into his bottom lip to keep a few choice expletives at bay. It was a weird thing. Usually, when Timmy bit his lip people thought he was trying to be sexy. In truth, he only bit his lip when he was about to go off and curse a bitch out. Perspective was a weird thing

 

“If we were the last two humans on Earth, Ansel – you still wouldn’t be my second choice.”

 

“You should put that on a Valentines Day Card. You’d make bank.” Ansel hummed on the other line, probably trying to come up with lyrics to an awful song about being someone’s second choice. The kind of neck-beard, hipster music that he’d been doing since high school. “Second question.”

 

“Dear Jesus.”

 

“Your Jewish.”

 

“Half”

 

“Why exactly do you need my help? So what. You said my name. It’s not like you made up a whole story about how we’ve been in this long affair since high school or something.”

 

“Uhm…:

 

“You motherfucker.”

 

“I got carried away. And Liz kept asking more and more questions. And Armie just kept like _looking_ at me with this _look_.”

 

“You told Armie Hammer we’ve been fucking since high school?”

 

“Since ‘Men, Women, and Children’. And now I have to tell you what I told them so on the off chance that you run into Armie our stories corroborate.”

 

“Abort, abort mission captain. The Titanic is sinking and you’re trying to re-arrange the fucking deck chairs.” There was a scuffle on the other end and Timmy could hear another voice in the background. “Listen, Timmy. I’ll help you out because we’re bros. But here’s some advice. Just tell him the truth. Co-stars fall in love with each other all the time, especially if they spend half their movie making out. It’s like Hollywood 101: You either fall for your love interest or you hate them. Just be truthful with him.”

 

Timmy sighed, rubbing his temples to keep the pounding in his head at a minimum. This was Ansel trying to be nice. This was Ansel actually trying to be a decent human being. But he just didn’t get it. “Honestly, honesty isn’t an option here, Ansel.”

 

_You just can’t tell your friend you love them. Especially, when they loved someone else._

“So then I told Liz that we should bring the kids to the Hollywood premiere. That it would be cute. The kids and her and you and… us all on the red carpet. You know Harper loves you. She loves eating your curls.” Timmy could hear Armie putting the phone down, a buzz taking over the speaker. He rolled his eyes, taking hold of the bar as the train took a sharp turn. Armie was trying to multi-task shaving again. Why did he think these things would ever end well? “And you know what she said?”

 

“That it was a fucking stupid idea.”

 

“Yes. That’s exactly what she said. How’d you… Wait. You agree with her, don’t you?” Armie made a displeased sound in the back of his throat like the world was against him instead of just common sense being his only enemy.

 

“Daddy, why are you kissing uncle Timmy?” A woman who was sitting just to his side eyed him wearily.

 

“That’s not fair.”

 

“Daddy, why are you taking off uncle Timmy’s clothes?” The train was crowded and there wasn’t any other open seat but the women still got up and walked to the other side of the train. Timmy couldn’t blame her.

 

“Daddy, why are you and uncle Timmy wrestling in that bed with no clothes on?”

 

“Harper’s so young. She won’t even remember it.”

 

“Daddy, do you have enough money to pay for all the therapy I’ll need when I’m a grown-up?”

 

“Well, the answer to that is yes but I get your point.”

 

“As much as I love Harper and Ford, no kids at the premier Armie.”

 

“Gotcha.” The buzzing stopped and the faucet turned on. Timmy let the sound wash over him, Armie humming somewhere in the distance ambient in the bustle of the train and city. He let his guard down just for a second. “Can I ask you about Ansel.”

 

No was the answer but Timmy was always bad at denying Armie things. It was a curse, really. “Sure.”

 

“Have you talked to him at all since…” Timmy shook his head, biting his lip to keep from cursing. Since Halloween, when he made up that ridiculous story. Since last week, when he made Ansel part of this hair-brained scheme. Since ‘Men, Women, and Children,’ when their supposed love affair took place?

 

“No. It’s complicated. You know. He has a girlfriend. They’ve been dating since high school and he really loves her.” Timmy was confusing himself now. The words hurting in the half-truths he let slip past his lips. “I don’t want to ruin that for him.”

 

“Have you ever thought that he might return your feelings? Maybe he loves you, too.” Timmy smiled to himself, the type of smile that hurt your face like the muscles ached to move. “It can’t be good for you, either. Didn’t that Carney…”

 

“Carney is an offensive term.”

 

“Didn’t that old, scary woman say that if you denied your feelings that the ghost of your true love would haunt you or something?”

 

Timmy shook his head, something twisting in his gut at the reminder. “No. She said if you didn’t say your true love’s name that his ghost would haunt you. Whatever that means?” What were the chances? How could some apparition haunt him if his true love was still alive? Was it a metaphorical haunt? Like his feelings for Armie would haunt him for the rest of his life? Did witches speak in metaphors?

 

“Then I guess you’re safe because you definitely said his name. Ansel.” Timmy wasn’t sure if Armie was trying to do an impression of his voice when he said _Ansel_ or if his voice just broke off into a whine for no reason. If it was the former then Timmy was super offended. He sounded nothing like that. “I’m sorry if I sounded weird when you first said it. I guess I was kind of surprised that Ansel was your type.”

 

“What? Tall, blond and handsome?” Timmy bit his lip, banging his head against the pole he was holding for balance. Why did he literally have to sabotage himself at every goddam turn?

 

“I meant douchey.”

 

“Maybe I’m shallow.”

 

“But you’re not though.”

 

“Maybe Ansel has these hidden depths that no one knows about but me. Maybe he’s like the ocean or like the fucking sea.” Timmy was an actor. He could do this. He just had to make it sound like he was madly in love with Ansel. He should win an Oscar just for that.

 

“Sounds fishy to me.” If he closed his eyes he could literally see Armie shaking his head, doing that thing with his mouth that made Timmy smile.

 

“You’re an asshole. Like you’re a truly horrible person. How could you say that about my hashtag: onetruelove.”

 

“Your hashtag: onetruelove,” Armie repeated like he was trying the words out in his mouth. There was radio silence for a moment, the controlled chaos of the train filling Timmy’s ears. “You’re right. I’m being an asshole. I guess I just want to protect you. I care about you. Liz and I care about you a lot. You’re like one of my best friends. I know that must sound dumb. We’ve only known each other for…”

 

Timmy drowned out the rest of Armie’s words, not paying attention to what he was saying but how he was saying them. His voice was a balm even if his words stung. Armie was his friend but was he tricking him, deceiving him somehow by wanting him? Were they ever really friends if Timmy had wanted to be lovers since the first time he kissed him? Elio’s words played in his head like he was mocking him.

 

_Perhaps we were friends first and lovers second. But then perhaps this is what lovers are._

 

“Your sister said you were an actor but she never mentioned how handsome you were.” Timmy bit his lip, baring his teeth as he smiled across the table at Alfred… Alfie. He felt both too young and too old to be set up on a blind date by his sister. It was like being set up on a play date, just one that would hopefully end in sex.

 

Pauline had said he’d like Alfie. That he was charming and down to Earth. “Coming to New York and having such lovely company is definitely a treat. I don’t go on vacation that much, you know. The BBC works me like a slave.”

 

Timmy frowned at the turn of phrase, taking a sip of his wine before he could say something he’d regret. Alfie was a bit older, in his early thirties, Pauline said. In truth, Timmy knew exactly why his sister thought they would get along.

 

Alfie was tall, well over six feet, blond with clear blue eyes. He was going to kill Pauline. She knew about his… feelings for Armie. In her own, older sister way she probably thought that Alfie would help get Armie out of his system.

 

“What exactly do you do at the BBC?” Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. Alfie was nice enough. He hadn’t done anything weird like ask Timmy if he was circumcised or not. He did an internal eye roll at the thought. If his standards were _not shit Ansel has done_ then he was setting the bar super low.

 

“Well, I work in music accounting. Don’t worry. It’s actually more exciting than it sounds.” Timmy smiled. He was kind of charming. “Have you ever heard of the Beatles?”

 

Timmy bit his lip. Maybe he was wrong. “I think I’ve heard of them. They're like an old band or something.”

 

“Beauty and brains. Yes, I’ve been interested in them since I was a young boy. They changed modern rock music and how people think of it.”

 

“Wasn’t that Chuck Berry? You know, Jonny B. Goode and everything ”

“I see you’ve watched ‘Back to the Future’ and many people of a certain generation and culture believe that but if you wouldn’t mind me playing devil’s advocate for just a second…”

 

Timmy thought, almost whimsically that maybe if he drowned out Alfie’s voice, nodded along for another half hour, smiled when he was prompted then this night wouldn’t be a total bust.

 

It had been so long since he had an orgasm with another person. If he had to actually count the months it would probably be painful. It was before Italy, a month or so before. Before Armie and his kisses and his gentle touches. _Call me by your name and I’ll call you by mine._

Maybe his sister was right and he just needed to get Armie out of his system. Hopefully, Alfie wasn’t a big talker in bed and Timmy could just close his eyes and take his fingers, imagine they were Armie’s fingers inside of him.

 

“Are you quite alright?” Timmy snapped his eyes open, not even remembering when he closed them.

 

“I’m fine. I just didn’t get a lot of sleep last night. I must be…” There was a gentle pressure just below his ear, hot and wet and it stopped the words right before they could slip out of his mouth. He gasped as the warmth spread down his neck, something sharp nipping at his collarbone. “I’m just a little tired.”

 

“Understandable. I remember my years at Oxford. All those late nights either at the library or at some party take their toll. Talk about burning the candle at both ends. Now did you know that Oxford is one of the oldest universities in the world? Some of the buildings there are older than the Aztec pyramids and the history…”

 

Timmy wet his lips, nodding and concentrating on the table, three different kinds of forks, two knives, and three spoons. He didn’t even know what he would do with so many different utensils but at least he could concentrate on them and the droning of Alfie’s voice instead of…

 

A heavy warmth settled across his back. It was so familiar that Timmy almost leaned into it. A strong, callused hand tipped his head back, tilting his chin, playing the stretch of exposed skin with nimble fingers. Fingertips stroking his Adam’s apples as lips pressed hotly against his pulse point. Another hand trailed down his chest, stopping at his nipple, rolling the sensitive flesh between two fingers until he let out a broken moan.

 

“Is something wrong, Timothee?” Alfie’s face was both bewildered and worried. Timmy couldn’t blame him. What an image he must be right now. Eyes closed, neck bent back, moaning like he was being touched by phantom fingers.

 

“I must have had too much wine on an empty stomach. If you’d excuse me, I just need to splash some cold water on my face.”

 

Timmy didn’t wait for an answer before getting up and sprinting to the bathroom. It was only a tiny blessing that there wasn’t anyone else in the men’s room as he turned the lock. Is this what a mental break down felt like? He splashed some cold water on his face before moving to one of the stalls to calm his breathing.

 

He pressed his hot forehead to the cool partition that separated one stall from the next and took a deep breath. He’d been working too much. Coming back from Italy he’d only had a tiny reprieve, maybe a month to detox before he was out shooting ‘Beautiful Boy.’

 

His nutritionist warned him that gaining all that weight for the movie and then losing it would stress out his body. Add everything that was happening with Armie and bam, you’re imagining some ghost is dry humping you during a perfectly lovely dinner with a perfectly boring accountant.

 

There was a chest, a set of shoulders pressing him into the partition. Timmy didn’t hold back, leaning into the heat and being rewarded with a kiss on the back of his neck. Those lips were too familiar; he could almost hear the voice they belonged to. He wasn’t imagining it. Somehow, it was Armie. All Armie.

 

His mouth biting the back of Timmy’s neck, not too rough but just enough. His hands gripping, squeezing Timmy’s hips until he pushed back, grinding his ass into a surprising solid frame.

 

This was crazy. “Armie.” He whispered, voice hoarse like he’d been screaming the name for hours. One hand traveled lower, pushing against the fabric of his jeans and boxers until too large fingers were stroking him tip to base. He didn’t care anymore, letting out a sob as he pushed into the hand. “Armie.”

 

Suddenly, he was being turned, his back pressed hard against the cold wall and a mouth moving against his own, claiming him. He ached for more, standing on his toes and kissing the phantom mouth with tongue and teeth. “Armie.”

 

Armie’s mouth bit at his chin, trailing lower to lave wet kisses at Timmy’s neck, licking at his nipples through his t-shirt and then finally mouthing his cock through his pants. Timmy let out a whine, endless and excited like a motor trying to start up.

 

“ _ArmieArmieArmie_.” There was no indecision, not even a seconds thought to whether it would be right or okay before he was pulling down his jeans and boxers to his ankles.

 

He took hold of the partition, gripping it like a lifeline as a hot mouth took his cock deep. He looked up at the ceiling, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes as he cried out, mouth opening and closing like he couldn’t catch his breath like there was no oxygen left in his lungs to share. He jerked forward, feeling the base of his cock enveloped by a tight suction.

 

Hands stilled his hips, Armie’s mouth working him with tongue and just the hint of teeth. Timmy had to laugh. Was he being impolite by trying to fuck phantom Armie’s mouth? His laughter turned into whimpers as a lone finger stroked just behind his balls. Armie’s mouth kissed his thighs, his lower belly before returning to his cock and swallowing him down as a finger ever so gently entered his ass.

 

Timmy relaxed around it, feeling the hot drag of the finger fucked him open. He winced slightly, it had been a while since anyone had been inside him but then the pad of that too big finger found the perfect spot inside of him, rubbing and dragging out sounds from Timmy’s mouth that he didn’t know he could make. His entire body was on fire as he pushed down to fuck himself on that finger and thrust forward to fuck back into Armie’s mouth.

 

“ _ArmieArmieArmie._ ” How loud he must have been, his own voice assaulting him as it echoed through the empty bathroom, letting him know he sounded just like a whore, begging to be fucked. He squeezed tight around that intruding finger, grinding his ass down until his balls tightened and his cock pumped out a load.

 

Timmy opened his eyes, watching his own seed stain the bathroom floor. His entire body felt like a live wire, too raw and heated to be touched again so soon. And just like that, the strong body that was holding him up disappeared and Timmy sank to the floor.

 

He pulled up his boxers and jeans gingerly over his sensitive cock before taking some toilet paper to clean up the mess he made. He shook his head as he dumped and flushed.

 

What was happening to him? It felt so real. Like Armie had really been in that bathroom with him, pinning him against the wall, kissing him and touching him. Timmy considered for a moment that he might actually be losing it before he remembered that old witch’s words.

 

_But I warn you. Once the letter has dropped the name will appear in your heart and head. You must say this name at once. If you do not then the ghost of your true love will haunt you until you admit it out loud._

“What did you do now Tiny Timmy? Make a deal with a crossroad demon? Maybe buy some magical beans from an old man?”

 

“I really hate you, Ansel. You know that, right?”

 

“And yet, who you gonna call?”

 

“Okay but two ground rules. First, you can’t laugh. And second, you can’t like, try to have me committed.”

 

“You know I can’t promise the former and I’m too lazy to do the latter. I’m your best friend. Not your caregiver.”

 

“You’re not my best friend but for some reason, I’m gonna trust you so…” There wasn’t a molecule in Timmy’s body that wasn’t sure that it was Armie who had touched him. Armie, whose mouth had ghosted kisses down his neck, licked his nipples, sucked his dick and fingered him. Not that Armie had done the latter but he remembered his mouth from all those weeks shooting and even without his voice or his physical presence there was no denying. What was fucking him up was this whole _phantom ghost witch curse… thing!_

 

“So you’re telling me that the ghost of Armand Douglas Hammer, who is very much alive and probably chilling right now somewhere in LA with his family – you’re telling me his ghost gave you a BJ and finger-banged you in a public toilet?

 

“I’m not crazy. I’m not like having a nervous breakdown… like probably. It’s just… my blind date was so boring and I knew I was just settling for an Armie substitute and then boom, this presence just over-took me. Like all these repressed emotions took shape and…”

 

“I’m Timothee Chalamet and I’m an artsy-fartsy indie actor and even when I have sex in a public bathroom it's really just a metaphor for the human condition.”

 

“Maybe there’s like a rehab. Like one of those Hollywood rehabs that are more like spas. Maybe I can just check myself in for a week for…”

 

“For fucking Casper.”

 

“I didn’t fuck Casper.”

 

“It was an Ibbur.”

 

“A what?”

 

“The ghost. The witches curse. It has to be an Ibbur. You know, from Jewish folklore. It’s a righteous soul that spiritually impregnates a living person. The living person has to give consent for the righteous soul to fulfill a task or promise that could only be accomplished in the flesh. Like, Isaac Luria, the Jewish mystic even believed that the righteous soul could still be alive when it spiritually impregnates the other person.”

 

“What… impregnates? How? How do you even know this?” That’s all he needed really. He thought this whole thing couldn’t get worst but with his luck, getting pregnant with Armie’s phantom baby wouldn’t even surprise him.

 

“Learning is fundamental, Timmy. You just can’t get through life being pretty. What did you think I was doing while you were going all ‘Letters to Playboy’ about Armie’s phantom dick? Did you think I was jerking one? I was Wikipedia’ing this shit.”

 

“Knowing you…” Timmy sighed, running a hand through his hair. Did he need a haircut? His self-care regimen had kind of gone out the window with this while _being in love with Armie_ and _witches curse thing_. “So what do I have to do? Is there like a… potion or talisman or something.”

 

“What the hell? This isn’t an episode of ‘Supernatural’ dumbass. You can’t just voodoo your way out of this. You fucked up the witch’s ritual by not admitting your love for Armie. It made your soul like… incomplete. You need to fulfill the ritual or else Armie phantom dick is going to keep haunting you.”

 

“Fine. I love Armie Hammer. He’s my true love. Is that good enough?” Timmy bit his lip, swallowing back tears as he moved the phone away from his face so Ansel couldn’t hear him getting choked up. He wanted to curse out everyone. That fucking witch, Ansel, Armie, himself. It was hard enough to admit you loved someone. Harder when you knew they didn’t love you back. And near fucking impossible when they loved someone else. And the worst part was…

 

“I don’t think that’ll be enough, Timmy. It sucks dude but I think you gotta say it to him.” Christ, was that pity in his voice? This was definitely a new low for Timmy. Even Ansel Fucking Elgort felt sorry for him.

 

“Yeah, I kind of figured.” The American media tour for the movie was less than a week away. A precursor to awards season. For the next two months, Armie would be firmly lodged in his back pocket, spending every day together, answering questions about how they fell in love with one another. Timmy had to laugh. It was both the perfect and worst time to let Armie know how he really felt. “You know, this is probably going to ruin everything?”

 

“Don’t be so dramatic. You’re young and beautiful. He’ll probably take it as a compliment. He’ll probably joke about it. You know how shallow actors are.”

 

“Yeah but I know how Armie is. He’ll joke about it. Then laugh it off and tell me he’s super cool with it. Then the tour and junkets will end, he’ll say goodbye and he’ll never talk to me again. And I’ll lose one of my best friends.”

 

Armie might have fallen in love with his Elio, with Italy and the romance of it all but it wasn’t real. It had been a parallel time with a different set of rules. In the real world, the one where Armie was blissfully ignorant of Timmy’s feelings -- the truth would hurt both of them. There wouldn’t ever be a perfect time to admit he loved him.

 

_But if not later, when?_

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

The gala was today, and the Hollywood Film Awards was the day after, along with his first, big speech that would be archived on Twitter and Instagram and… Timmy wasn’t nervous. He was way beyond that. He somehow reached a new level of anxiety that made his entire body buzz like a phone left on vibrate.

 

Armie, for what it was worth wasn’t helping in the slightest. Cramped in the limo on the way to the gala, Armie continued to give them plausible escape routes. Liz vetoing each one as they came out of his mouth.

 

“Timmy has a big day tomorrow, Liz. We should just ask the driver to take us back home. Help him prep.” Armie wrapped a comfortable arm around his shoulder, squeezing his bicep and Timmy had to brace himself. The dissonance was playing out in his head like a broken pulley. Real Armie had always been easy with the hugs and touches. From day one, he’d barged in on Timmy’s piano lesson, enveloping him in a hug like they were old friends.

 

Timmy was too used to those touches but now it was different. Now he could compare them to a lover’s touch. To what Armie’s fingers felt like when they were playing with his nipples, stroking his cock and fingering him ever so gently. And all those things were too fucked up to think about with Liz -- Timmy’s friend and Armie’s wife -- just on the other side of Armie.

 

“Stop scaring him. He needs to get used to all of this.” Liz waved her hand around, bright nails shimmering off the sequence of her dress. She smiled brightly at him and something inside his gut tightened in… regret… guilt. “You’ll be fine. Everyone will love you just like we do.”

 

“Or I can tweet out that we all got sick off some bad tuna. Then we can stay home, get some Chinese food and watch ‘Get Out’ again.” Liz sighed, checking her reflection in her compact but not disagreeing. Timmy sighed, mirroring the feeling, wondering if she felt the same way. If the prospect of lazily falling asleep while watching anything with a full stomach and a warm Armie at your side sounded better than really anything.

 

“Wouldn’t they notice if we weren’t there?” Timmy asked, shaking out of his daydream.

 

“We’re small fish. They wouldn’t even notice.”

 

“Isn’t one of the buildings in the museum literally named after your family?”

 

“Nepotism is a hell of a drug.”

 

“So are amphetamines.” Timmy whispered, thinking back to his ‘Beautiful Boy’ character. He knew some actors went method for their roles but he never had it in him to do any of the hard drugs. And given his recent circumstances, with being haunted by an Ibbur and everything, he really didn’t need his reality warped any further. He looked back at Liz and Armie, who were giving twin looks of confusion… maybe even worry. “Or so I’ve heard.”

 

“After this, we can go home, order the worst, greasy food imaginable and binge watch something on Netflix,” Liz said, magnanimously, Armie’s face lighting up, about to say something. Probably trying to bargain further but Liz hushed him with one finger. “But only if you two get through the night, being the most charming arm candy I know you can be. Promise?”

 

It was really a deal too good to turn down. “Promise.” Timmy accepted, almost too fast but nothing really compared to Armie, who said it with a gallant, exaggerated bow. Timmy looked at the pair, remembering just how easy it was to get swept up into their orbit.

 

_He never stood a chance really._

 

This wasn’t the type of event that you danced at, so leave it to Liz to pull them both by the hand to one of the only uncrowded spots at the gala and dance between them. She had a strong hold on Timmy’s hand and he used it as a lifeline.

 

He’d already drunk too much, and had been leaning, almost stumbling on every socialite, actor, producer who’d come up to them, congratulating them on ‘Call Me By Your Name’. He wasn’t sure if he’d been charming or obnoxious. He hoped for the former but was sure twitter would let him know come morning.

 

“When I was fifteen I saw you in ‘Death of a Salesman’ and…. I don’t even know how to say this…” Timmy’s word-vomit was acting up again and four drinks in, he knew he couldn’t stop it. Leaning into Andrew Garfield and noticing, just this close, how soft his eyes were. “It changed my life, man.”

 

Andrew didn’t seem to mind, steadying Timmy with one hand as he almost over-balanced and leaning up so they were just about eye level. “I feel both honored and old. So thank you and fuck you.” He pushed at the same shoulder, smiling with one side of his mouth, no heat to his words. But there was something else to them, the way he whispered so softly that Timmy had to lean even closer until he could almost feel Andrew’s words come out of his lips. “Armie never told me how charming you were.”

 

“Armie never told me how handsome you were.” Timmy snapped his mouth closed, finally feeling that fifth drink he was holding taking effect, his word-vomit taking the wheel. “Um… Not that he had to tell me… I have eyes.” He watched Andrew blush, sputtering handsomely. Timmy didn’t know how someone could sputter handsomely but Andrew was doing it. “I’m sorry… I’m being weird. I just had a bad date with a British dude like two days ago.” Why was he like this?

 

There was a beat of silence, Timmy watching Andrew’s face transform from confusion to disbelief to something else altogether. His hold on Timmy tightened ever so gently, bringing him closer until he could feel the intake of breath from Andrew’s chest. “Well, on behalf of all British men everywhere, my sincerest of apologies.” With the other hand he took the drink out of Timmy’s hand, placing it on a passing tray. “But maybe you’ve had enough of these for the night.”

 

Timmy squinted as the drink left his peripheral. Armie had pulled the same move after drink three. He wasn’t that drunk. “I’m not that drunk.” There was the word-vomit again. Andrew backed away a bit, started to apologize but Timmy stopped him with a flat hand against his stomach. “I mean… I’ve had a few drinks but I’m just… you know, nervous more than anything. Being around all these famous people… it’s daunting.”

 

Andrew smiled; wrapping a hand around the one Timmy had placed on his stomach. Not moving it but maybe making sure he kept it there. “You have nothing to be nervous about. To be honest, the Queen herself could walk in, crown on top of her head and you’d still be the brightest thing in this room.” Timmy, for his part, did a great impression of a fish on land while trying to form a response. That was like some James Bond level smooth.

 

If this was a movie he’d probably say something like, ‘Isn’t that treasonous, Mr. Garfield?” and then Andrew would pull him into his arms and respond, ‘It’d be worth it.’ But instead, word-vomit. “Um… wow. That was hot… like totally makes up for boring British accountant dude.” Timmy closed his mouth, deciding he was done with talking for now.

 

Andrew laughed, somehow finding his ramblings… endearing? Sweet? Ansel was right, he should be glad he was so pretty. “I don’t want to be presumptuous but… what are you doing after the gala?” He raised an eyebrow ever so suggestively and Timmy swallowed, mouth suddenly dry as the Sierra Desert.

 

“I was just planning on going home with Armie and Liz… We kinda have this promise thing… going. But...” Timmy sucked in his bottom lip, leaving the answer open-ended, letting Andrew make the next move but moving his hand lower on his stomach. He’d picked up guys and girls at bars before but picking up Andrew Fucking Garfield at some swank gala? Definitely, not something he saw himself doing tonight.

 

Something about Andrew’s face changed as he digested Timmy’s words, his mouth forming a thin line as he let go of Timmy’s wrist, gently pushing it off his stomach. “Oh, well. That’s unexpected. But Armie… he’s one of the sweetest men I know… I wouldn’t really want to intrude on whatever you three have going.”

 

Timmy squinted, looking at his hand that was really feeling a bit cold now that it wasn’t on Andrew’s perfect stomach and then back at Andrew. He felt like he missed something. Was he being blown off? Was he too forward? He shook his head. Maybe he got his signals mixed and Andrew just wanted to hang out? “I mean… it’s no big deal. If you want, I’ll ask them if you can join us.”

 

Andrew’s face did something that Timmy wasn’t even sure was possible, if human eyes could actually pop out of someone’s head he was sure it would have happened right there and then. The shade of red he turned definitely wasn’t normal. “I’m… don't get me wrong. I’m very flattered but I’ve never… I’ve never even had a threesome before… let alone a foursome…”

 

“What?” Timmy was very fucking confused.

 

“I’m sure whatever promise you and Armie and Liz have… going is very healthy and well negotiated but I don’t think I’m the type of person who can…” Andrew waved his hand around between him and Timmy, and then somewhere off in the direction that Armie and Liz were.

 

Timmy took a moment, Andrew’s words finally settling into the part of his brain that wasn’t dizzy with drink and thoughts of sexy-time. “Um… wait. Wow, no… Everything you just thought I said, rewind. Rewind and delete. Me, Armie and Liz don’t have like some ‘Big Love’ thing going. Me and Armie aren’t sister-husbands… or brother-husbands? We’re just friends… well, not Liz and Armie but…”

 

Andrew let out an uncomfortable laugh. “Okay, now I’m confused… The _promise_ you guys have… going?”

 

Timmy metaphorically hit himself on the head, and then physically hit himself on the head for good measure. Leave it to him to sabotage a night of awesome sex with Andrew Garfield by insinuating that he’s having ménage à trois with Armie and Liz. “The promise was to… binge Netflix and eat greasy food if we all survived the gala without making a fool of ourselves so...”

 

“So… I guess you already kinda broke that promise.” Andrew, not so discreetly, tangled their fingers together, gently pulling him closer by the hand. “If I haven’t scared you away by frankly jumping to mountains of conclusions would you still be interested…”

 

“Yes.” Timmy was aware that he said that way too fast and way too eagerly but really, why try and hide what a hoe he really was after that whole debacle? “If I haven’t scared you off with my verbal vomit… I would really like to show you what else my mouth could do?” He wasn’t sure if that was sexy and classy or just weird and trashy but it seemed to work.

 

Timmy felt a bit guilty giving Armie and Liz the ol’ Irish Goodbye but as Andrew pulled him from the main room, a blinding smile set into his gorgeous face, he decided this was exactly what he needed to do.

Andrew was the exact opposite of Armie and not just physically. He was small, questioning touches and suggestive words, where Armie was crushing hugs and grand declarations. Even if Armie wasn’t aware of it, every hold was a possessive hold. Declaring everything that he held close enough, long enough as his. He just needed to break free from it. Let his body… be possessed by someone else. Timmy needed to be daring.

 

He pulled Andrew into an alcove; a doorknob pressed into his back as he dragged a hand through his soft hair, tilting his head down until he found just the right angle. Andrew didn’t waste time, capturing his mouth in a rushed but deep kiss.

 

_Timmy_

 

Timmy froze. That wasn’t Andrew’s accented voice that had just moaned his name. Fuck. “Timmy.” A body too large to fit into that tiny alcove, hot and solid, pressed firmly against his back. He took a moment to let out a shaky breath, gasping as lips pressed gentle kisses across his jaw. No, that was Andrew, whispering against his skin, telling him how hot he sounded.

 

Fingers traced his lips and he opened his mouth, welcoming the intrusion and licking at the digits. Two hands parted his jacket, one finding his waist and the other skimming up his chest, finding his nipple. Timmy opened his eyes, letting out a gasp around the finger in his mouth. That was one too many fucking hands.

 

Teeth nipped at the nape of his neck, laving at the stinging skin with a hot tongue and Timmy let out a broken, wet whimper. He couldn’t help it. He thrust back, grinding his ass into the body behind him and not so gently pulling Andrew down to suck on his collarbone. Andrew, for his part, fitted his hips so tightly against Timmy’s – not even the Holy Spirit could fit between them -- and started to rut against him.

 

There was not a sliver of his body that did not feel possessed, owned. Two sets of mouths played along his neck at either side, two pairs of hands gripping and massaging him from chest to thighs, and two hard cocks pressed against hip and ass. At that moment he did not care. Not about the curse, not about being in love with a married man, not about possibly being caught by paparazzi in flagrante. In that moment everything was wrongwrongwrong but so right.

 

_Timmy_

 

He let out a sob as two different hands played with either of his nipples. “Oh God, Armie.” _ArmieArmieArmie._ He was so close; he could feel it in his toes. But it never came, both bodies letting him go so quickly he almost fell. He leaned back, the hard doorknob pressing against his spine. He opened his eyes to Andrew’s confused, angry face.

 

“You just… what did you just say?” Andrew’s voice was even but form, shoulders going rigid as he fixed his tie and buttons. Timmy didn’t even remember unbuttoning them. “Christ, this is a mess. Open that damn door before someone sees us.” Andrew didn’t wait, going around Timmy without touching him – which was a fete – and opening the door. Pushing pass Timmy not so gently.

 

Timmy bit his lip, a mix of angry and aroused and confused that he really hadn’t felt since puberty. He followed anyway. “What? What are you talking about?” Timmy asked, quietly, closing the door and noticing that they just shut themselves into a janitor’s closet. He kicked at the broom for good measure and then felt bad. Some poor guy would have to come in here after the party was over and find the entire place in disarray.

 

“I was kissing your neck and grabbing at your arse in a quite public place. Honestly, risking being splashed on the front page of every trashy tabloid and you said Armie… moaned. You moaned Armie.” Timmy felt himself flush, his face heating as he looked at Andrew’s annoyed face. It was probably the worst time to think about it but he had the exact same look on his face as Eduardo in ‘The Social Network’ when Zuckerberg diluted his shares down to 0.03%.

 

“I’m… I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean to say that. It was just…” Just what? Was he really about to tell him that Armie’s phantom was haunting and cock-blocking him because he refused to tell real Armie that he in love with him? He shook his head, feeling akin to a kicked puppy as he sagged against the slop sink. “I’m just… in love with Armie.” It was really the saddest declaration of love he’d ever heard, given how it echoed in the room and the frown that played across Andrew’s face.

 

“Shite…” Andrew crossed the tiny space, wrapping his hand around Timmy’s shoulder in a very not sexual way. “It happens.” He shrugged his shoulders, squeezing Timmy’s arm and giving him a look. If ‘I feel sorry for you because you're a sad shit but I’m still pissed that you led me on’ could be concentrated in one look then that would be it.

 

“I thought if we had sex…”

 

“You would still have to face him tomorrow.”

 

“But at least I would have orgasmed before that.”

 

Andrew squinted at Timmy, almost as if he was considering but then shook his head a moment later. “Sorry, I can’t. It would be weird. You know the old saying ‘don’t shit where you eat.’ I wouldn’t want to get myself tangled in… all of that.” He waved his hand in Timmy’s general vicinity and he would have been offended but… karma, really. “Let’s go back to the party.”

 

Something in Timmy’s stomach lurched at the thought of going back to the party -- hair ruffled, lips swollen, a hickey already forming on his neck and then facing Armie. “I think Imma just stay in here.”

 

Andrew turned a worried look towards him. “Forever?” Timmy sucked in his bottom lip, not answering. He was honestly considering it as his best option. “No, no, no. I wouldn’t feel right leaving you in a janitorial closet like this.”

 

“I’ll be out… soon.” That was a lie but _acting_ and after a few minutes of cajoling, he convinced Andrew to leave. After the door shut Timmy let his head fall into his hands, taking a good minute to feel sorry for himself. He didn’t know how long he’d been in there and he’d shut off his phone after the tenth buzz. The knock on the door really jolted him out of his fugue state.

 

The door opened before he could answer and in came Armie hurried and wide-eyed. “What the hell?” It only took him half a step to reach Timmy, gathering him into a too-tight hug. “I was about to send out the bloodhounds.”

 

“You don’t have bloodhounds,” Timmy mumbled against his chest, wrapping both arms around Armie’s sturdy back. He didn’t know he needed it until Armie gave it to him, comfort. “I’m fine… I just needed… air.”

 

“In a janitor’s closet?”

 

“In a janitor’s closet.” Timmy rubbed his face against Armie’s jacket, it wasn’t soft but it smelled like him, crisp and clean but still musky. “How the hell did you find me? Did you have me chipped the last time I stayed at your house?” Timmy wouldn’t put it past him really.

 

“Andrew told me.” Armie went rigid against Timmy as he said it and Timmy froze at the thought.

 

“What did he tell you?” Andrew seemed like a good guy. Not the type of asshole that would tell Armie he was in love with him just to spite him…

 

“He said that you two came out here… for some air. And then decided to hang out in a janitor’s closet… and then you decided not to come out.” Armie’s voice was like razors like he was spitting each one out before they could cut him. “He told me that I should check on you… is that what happened?”

 

Timmy for a moment thought about nodding, playing along with the terribly put together lie but knew that Armie was not buying it for a second. He had to think. “I… I was going to go home with him.” Timmy looked up at Armie’s face, a grimace settling on his mouth. “And we started kissing just outside this door…”

 

“And…” Armie wasn’t meeting his eyes, holding him just as tight but looking somewhere over his shoulder. Timmy didn’t know why he felt guilty. He was a grown-ass man and Armie knew that he was bi and he could go home with whomever he so pleased but still… guilt settled deep in his stomach. “And we were like… dry-humping and stuff and then I said…” Was he really going to tell Armie? Here, in a janitor’s closet, that he was in love with him?

 

“What did you say?”

 

“I said… Ansel’s name.” Timmy sagged into Armie’s embrace, shaking his head gently as the lie fell out of his mouth. He was a coward and he knew it but at least he was a coward that still had his best friend.

 

Armie was silent for a beat before asking, “And did Andrew get angry? Did he do something… un-honorable?”

 

Timmy was confused, looking up at Armie as he finally met his eyes and Armie gave him _that_ look. “Oh my God. He didn’t like… try and ravage me or anything. We just talked and I was too embarrassed to go back to the gala after… so I just decided I would live in here for the rest of my life.”

 

Armie let out a sigh, slumping into Timmy’s hold. “I’m so relieved… I thought I’d have to kill Andrew and then have Liz help me bury the body.” Timmy laughed, arching an eyebrow quizzically in Armie’s direction.

 

“You’re joking right?” Armie stayed alarmingly silent. “Oh my god.”

 

“Liz is keeping Andrew at the table just in case.”

 

“You and Liz are both mentally deranged… I don't know why I…” Timmy bit back at the words as they threatened to come out of his mouth, had to physically bite down on his tongue and close his eyes and concentrate on not saying _I love you_. It was like a yawn or a sneeze or a moan like if it didn’t come out of his body he might just burst.

 

“Hey, what’s wrong? What’s wrong?” Timmy opened his eyes, tears gathering at the side as Armie tilted his chin up with one long finger. His eyes worried and soft, thumb gently stroking his cheek, wiping away the wet patches He felt Armie’s warm breath against his mouth and felt dizzy like it was all too much a sensory overload.

 

“I… I think I might have drunk too…” He never finished the lie, taking that extra inch of space like he was leaping across mountaintops, capturing Armie’s mouth like he found ground. Like he was coming home. It was like he never left, Armie’s lips pressing into his, tongue gently skimming the seam of his mouth, the bristle of his beard tickling his chin.

 

“Timmy.”

 

“Armie.” He moaned back, not letting the moment go. He wrapped both arms around Armie’s neck, gathering the hair at his nape and pulling him in, wanting more and more and more.

 

That’s when Armie’s phone rang; it was Liz’s ringtone. Timmy jerked back like he’d been electrocuted and that’s how it felt, untangling himself from Armie as a sense of… shame washed over him. It didn’t help that Armie refused to let go, keeping a firm hold on his hip as Timmy tried to pull away. It was the worst type of distance; close enough to feel Armie’s agitation and nerves vibrate through his body but far enough to not feel his warmth.

 

“Hey, Liz… No, I found him… No, we can forget Plan A. You can let him go. Timmy’s fine… No, you don’t need to rough him up. He didn’t do anything untoward…” Timmy watched the soft smile play across Armie’s face, his lapse in judgment finally hitting him. He crossed his arms around himself, tightening them around his stomach like his guts were about to fall out. What had he done? “Love you, too… We’ll be back in a minute. Bye, love you.”

 

The soft look Armie had for Liz transformed as he looked back up at Timmy, worry etched into his face. He put that look there. He couldn’t do this. “I can’t do this. I’m so sorry. I… must have had too much to drink.” He broke away from the grip Armie had on him, rushing by and out the door before he could argue.

 

Maybe he was surprised, even though he shouldn’t have been but by the time he hopped into the first taxi that passed, he looked back and Armie wasn’t there. Knowing that he hadn’t followed him outside kind of sealed the deal. He might not have said the words but that kiss was its own declaration. In his own sloppy, messy way he had let Armie know he loved him. The curse was broken… and Armie had not followed him.

 

Timmy bit into his bottom lip, angry with himself more than anything, bile settling into the back of his throat and he swallowed it down. He checked his messages; four texts from Armie and five from Liz, his finger hovered on the screen before shaking his head and scrolling down. He couldn’t do that, not right now. He’d face the consequences of his actions in the morning.

 

Selena had texted him, inviting him over if he didn’t have any plans after the gala. He wiped the snot from his nose, staining his too expensive jacket as fresh tears ran down his face. He was swollen and wet and everything was messed up. He answered because he really didn’t have anywhere else to go at that moment. He was staying at Armie’s and the thought of going back there now…

 

“Kid? Where am I taking you?” The driver had been waiting patiently, maybe because he just came out of a swank gala full of rich people or maybe because he’d come out running with tears in his eyes. What a sight he must make?

 

“Sorry… can you take me to this address.”

 

Selena had been someone who surprised him, to the point that he felt guilty about publically blasting her and her music when he was younger and dumber. In all honesty, for someone who’d been famous for so long, she could have been much worst.

 

Timmy wasn’t even sure what type of freak-show he would have been if he’d actually been a child-star. If the past few hours were any indication – making out with his married co-star right after making out with another actor in the janitor’s closet at some L.A gala – then yeah, he probably would have been in rehab before he hit twenty.

 

“What the hell happened to you, grandpa?” Selena took a long look at him, cataloging his puffy, red eyes, wrinkled shirt and general state of disarray.

 

“It’s a long story…” Timmy hesitated, curling on the edge the couch and wondering what he should really share. Selena was strangely one of the most reserved people he had met in Hollywood. She never shared more than was necessary, a trait that drew him to her more than others. “Have you ever done something with someone that was so disastrous that you regretted it the moment it was over?”

 

Selena raised an eyebrow, pulling on an overly large, white sweater and sitting on the other side of the couch. “Hell, you just described at least half of my professional and personal relationships… Who’d you fuck?” Timmy was silent for a beat too long, looking at her imploringly as a fresh set of tears started welling in his eyes. “Well, fuck. Let me just order something before you start in.”

 

Half an hour and two plates of Chinese takeout later Timmy did actually feel better. Just a little more human and a little less dead. “And while he was on the phone with Liz… I just made a run for it.”

 

Selena nodded, taking another sip of water, a blank expression on her face as if Timmy had just told her about his last visit to the dentist. He wasn’t sure if she was judging him a lot or just didn’t care. Maybe both. “So… is Liz a nice person?”

 

The question confused Timmy more than anything but the answer was easy enough. He didn’t even have to think about it. “The best… you know. She’s like awesome and generous and she’s always looking out for me… Why?”

 

“Nothing… I was just wondering if she would be the type to have you murdered or your career sabotaged if you cross her… you know? Making out with her husband after she invited you to stay at her house with their children.” Timmy frowned; Selena was definitely judging him and he deserved it. But he didn’t think Liz was the type… well, he was sure she’d probably help Armie kill someone and bury the body but she’d probably take it easy on Timmy… probably.

 

“No… She’d be pissed but she’s still… she’s my friend.” It hurt to actually say it even if it was true. Timmy was a shitty friend and in all the haste and selfishness of thinking, he’d lose Armie… he forgot. He was going to lose Liz, too. “I don’t want to lose her.” It was a whisper but he knew Selena could hear him.

 

“Well, no offenses to your kind… but men are dumb. Armie might’ve not known but I’m guessing Liz probably knew from the moment she saw you making mooneyes at her husband. Maybe you should talk to her. If she’s understanding you can probably repair this whole mess… and if she’s really understanding you could probably work out like a… timeshare.”

 

It took a second for Timmy to catch on but when he did… “You think Liz would be willing to share Armie like he’s a condo?” He gave Selena a long look, telling her she was crazy then pinched her leg with his big tow for good measure. Her serious facade broke as she let out a burst of laughter, falling onto the couch and twisting his big toe until he cried, uncle.

 

“Listen, you never know. Isn’t your whole, stupid artsy movie about taking chances in love even though you might get hurt.” Timmy took a beat to think about that, surprised that Selena was actually paying attention during the premiere. Then to wonder if acting out those instincts in front of the camera made him less likely to act on them in real life.

 

Feeling Elio’s hurt from losing Oliver was something he never wanted to feel again. “Your not the first person in the history of the world to get your heart broken, Timmy. So stop being a chicken-shit and… live your life, boy.”

 

‘What if Armie doesn’t…” Timmy didn’t want to finish the thought that had been running through his head all night… all year.

 

“Men are stupid.” Selena rolled her eyes heavenward, shaking her head in his direction. “He did kiss you back… didn’t he?” Timmy didn’t answer, replaying that moment. Was it just his imagination or did Armie really deepen the kiss, skim his lips with an eager tongue? Maybe it hadn’t just been one-sided… maybe Armie wanted this, wanted him?

 

“Enough of this emo shit. I’m not good at… comforting people. Do you want to do an Instagram Live?” Timmy almost got whiplash at how fast the conversation changed. “That’s right… you’re not just here for a therapy session. Now it's your turn to amuse me.”

 

Timmy looked like shit and bags were starting to settle underneath his eyes but he thought, maybe if he just hid his face and didn’t look directly into the camera… no one would really notice.

 

_You look like complete shit._

_Why are you at Selena’s house?_

_Are you fucking her now?_

All three texts from Ansel came back to back and he wondered for a second why he didn’t just send it as one text but knowing Ansel, it was probably for dramatic purposes. He excused himself to the bathroom, Selena not really noticing now that her friend had joined them.

 

“Are you in L.A yet?” Timmy didn’t really want to waste time with gentilities. It was Ansel after all. “I need a place to crash.”

 

“Why don’t you ask your new best friend, Selena?” Was that… hurt in Ansel’s voice? Timmy shook his head. Ansel wasn’t the type to get jealous. Well, he actually was but he would usually be blunter about it. “Maybe she can help you break this Ibbur curse, too.”

 

For fuck sake! “For fuck sake. You're my best friend… are you happy now.” Timmy could hear the pout from the other side of the line and if he had any extra guilt to spread he would definitely feel it for being such a shitty best friend but… “Anyway, I would stay here but I’m guessing the paparazzi are already waiting for the morning shot so they can say Selena is stepping out on Justin with me. I don’t need that type of reputation.”

 

“Hmmm, Timmy doesn’t want the media to think he’s a side-hoe. What did Alanis say? Isn’t that ironic? Don’t you think?” Timmy would have felt offended but that was probably the first time he heard irony used properly in reference to that dumb song so he let it slide.

 

“What hotel are you staying at?” Timmy should have felt possibly an iota of shame, sucking sympathy from people like an emotional lamprey and he knew at some point he’d have to make restitutions for being such a selfish shit but really… that was a problem for future Timmy.

 

“Sorry about dining and ditching like this but I’ve got an early day tomorrow. So I really should be getting back.” He was already putting on his coat and slipping on his shoes as Selena and… Raquel eyed him from the couch, sipping their tea.

“Are you going back to Casa del Hammer?” Selena asked, the meaning behind her words just for them. He trusted that she wouldn’t spread his personal shit to her friends. He shook his head. “You hitting up a hotel then?”

 

He hesitated, wondering how much he should really share in front of a stranger but shrugged it off. Like Selena said, he should live his life. “Ansel… Elgort is letting me crash at his hotel. He’s in town for the award show.” Selena raised an eyebrow, her friend humming into her tea.

 

“Is there a thing there? Is that like some hot gossip I need to not know about?” That was… Raquel? Timmy subtly rolled his eyes, not wanting to be rude as he ordered an Uber.

 

“Nope, he’s just my best friend. Besides he has a long-term girlfriend.” He met Selena’s eyes, seeing something shift like she was thinking… crap. Timmy really set himself up for that one. “He’s kinda been helping me through this whole mess.” He waved his hand, hoping without words that Selena understood.

 

“Gotcha.” She said, getting up, as he was about to leave and stopping him at her doorstep. In the quietest voice, “Think about what I said. Talk to Liz and if you get hurt, you get hurt. You’ll survive.”

 

Once in the Uber, Timmy took stock of everything that had just happened in the past few hours. They played out in his head in broken snippets like a CD that skipped and paused from over-use. Liz’s reassuring smile _everyone will love you just like we do,_ Andrew’s hurt face _you said Armie. You moaned Armie,_ Selena’s blunt _stop being a chicken-shit and live your life_ and Armie…

 

Armie’s shoulder pressed tight against his in the limo, his smile as they danced with Liz between them, his over-bearing hug when he thought he might be hurt… his hands pressed tight against his hips, his mouth against Timmy’s.

 

 _Timmy._ He hadn’t been sure. Had that been the phantom whispering his name with so much want and love? Had it all been in his head? Or had that been Armie? If there was even a chance that Armie felt the same way should he risk it? There was always the chance that it could all just end so horribly but…

 

_To feel nothing so as not to feel anything – what a waste!_

“Fuck, Odysseus ain't got shit on you.” Ansel huffed out, exhaling and passing the joint to Timmy. Out of all the places he thought he’d end the night, on Ansel’s hotel bed, sharing a blunt was not one of them.

“Okay, let’s look at the list again… where the fuck did you put the list?” Timmy felt around before eyeing Ansel, who magically made the clipboard appear from somewhere below his ass. After the third drink and before the first bowl they started making a list of pros and cons of the night. Ansel had, actually. Timmy just puts up with it… like most things concerning Ansel.

 

“Pro: You made out with Andrew Garfield.”

 

“Con: He possibly thinks I’m a hoe now.” Timmy didn’t regret making out with a near stranger outside of a janitor’s closet, just the part where he moaned someone else’s name. And really, that wasn’t even his fault even though blaming the Ibbur felt like a copout.

 

“Pro: Armie kissed you back.”

 

“Con: Liz might have me killed and buried in some backwater part of Texas.” He really didn’t think that but also doubted that Liz would be super cool with sharing Armie, even if Armie somehow returned his feelings.

 

“Pro: Selena Gomez totally supports your ventures into side-hoe-dum.”

 

“Con: Selena Gomez thinks I’m a side-hoe. Or at least wants to be a side-hoe.” The thought, now with an hour or so of distance really made him cringe. He’d spent months wondering what type of child-star strange Selena would be and in the end, he was the one to go all ‘Real Housewives’ melodrama on her.

 

“Pro: The Ibbur curse is broken.”

 

“Thank fucking God.” Timmy inhaled before passing back to Ansel. He was pleasantly buzzed and the thought of the Ibbur not haunting him anymore was a relief but also, kind of sad. Phantom Armie was a pretty good lay. “Con: Phantom Armie was a pretty good lay and now he’s gone and I’m horny.”

 

Ansel choked on smoke for a few minutes, hiccupping as he laughed. Timmy joined in, not even caring how pathetic he sounded, fawning over phantom dick. The weed must be primo. “Well, at least you think the Ibbur is gone.”

 

Timmy paused for a beat, shaking his head as Ansel tried to pass back. Of course, the Ibbur was gone. He’d kissed Armie, pretty much declaring that he loved him without words. There wasn’t a chance that… “Do you think that old witch was being literal? Like I have to literally go up to Armie and tell him?” Ansel was silent as he added the remains of the blunt to the astray. “Shit.”

 

Ansel joined Timmy back on the bed, facing him and sitting Indian… no. That was racist… sitting criss-cross, applesauce. “There’s only one way to test it out really.” Timmy squinted up at him, scooting up on the bed until his back was against the headboard. He couldn’t mean… “Listen, the Ibbur tries to cock-block you anytime you’re about to get busy. That’s what happened with the Beatle enthusiast and Eduardo.”

 

“I’m not going to have sex with you.” Timmy squinted further until Ansel was just a blur in front of him. The thought of kissing him making bile slowly rise in his throat. His sister had forced him to kiss a dead fish once. That seemed more appealing. “I’d rather fuck a dead fish.”

 

Ansel rolled his eyes, scooting closer until their knees touched. He was wearing super tight, white jeans that bunched painfully at the crotch. His balls must hate him. “Slow down there, Guillermo. I have a girlfriend and even though tall, blond and unavailable is your type I’m not saying we should fuck.”

 

Timmy relaxed a bit, finally feeling the long night in his knotted shoulders. He closed his eyes, leaning forward until he felt his forehead touch something solid, probably Ansel’s chest. It was warm and solid so he didn’t care to move it. “So what’s your plan then?”

 

“The Ibbur appeared when you started thinking about having sex with someone you were with. So really, all you have to do is think about having sex with me and it should appear.” Timmy felt an arm tentatively wrap around his waist, another finding the curls at the back of his neck. “Let’s see if this works.” Ansel’s mouth was suddenly closer, whispering hotly into his ear.

 

Timmy could do this. It really shouldn't be that much of a stretch. He’d seen Ansel naked before when they played basketball at LaGuardia and from a strictly aesthetic point of view – he wasn’t hideous. He imagined those long legs wrapped around his waist, those finger scratching at his back as he fucked into him. Ansel’s long cock fucking his hand… so thick he’d have to use two hands and… crap. He was imagining Armie’s cock. Armie’s heavy thighs squeezing his waist, Armie’s fingers pulling at his hair. “Shit, sorry this isn’t working. You’re just too grotesque… ”

 

Then suddenly, Ansel’s mouth was on his. There was no finesse, just a mess of tongue and teeth and spit and Timmy didn’t really expect anything less. Ansel’s knees dug into his thighs, tangling their legs until Timmy loss balance and they both threw hands trying to catch themselves. Timmy’s elbow landed somewhere in Ansel’s sternum, his legs wrapping around his upper thighs and thrusting.

 

Ansel let out a wounded whimper and Timmy worried for a second he might have broke bones or cartilage but then he felt something hard jabbing at his hip so thought everything must be fine. It was really the unsexiest thing he’d done in years but sadly it still seemed to work wonders on his body.

 

Ansel was trying to bite his nipples through two layers of shirt and Timmy freed one hand long enough to find his bulge and rub at it with a flat palm. He really wasn’t as thick as Armie but the length was about right, full lips sucking at his chest and making him throb through his jeans. This was literally the closest thing to sex he’d had in months.

 

_Timmy_

It was just a ghost of a touch, bristles against his neck followed by a warm mouth trailing kisses to his ear. That was his weak spot, just behind his ear. Armie had found it one day while they were entangled in bed, cameras, and lights surrounding them. They’d been kissing, close to finishing the bedroom scene and Armie’s mouth grazed the stretch of skin just behind his ear and he’d moaned so softly. “Armie.”

 

“Is he here?” The voice was far away but he knew it was Ansel. He nodded, not asking how he knew. He felt a dip in the bed and opened his eyes, watching as Ansel settled in a cushioned chair. It was the briefest moment where the warmth of one body was replaced by the heat of another. He closed his eyes again.

 

He felt Armie’s tongue graze his bottom lip, licking his teeth and taking his top lip into his mouth. He tangled his fingers into the short hairs at the back of his neck, bringing him closer. Armie’s weight was solid, hard from chest to thighs, pressing Timmy into the bed like who wouldn’t settle until they were one.

 

He didn’t waste any time, stripping off his own clothes until all he could feel was flesh against his own. Armie’s stubble scratching at his chest and stomach until his face was buried deep between Timmy’s legs. He spread his thighs, feeling like a bug on his back, exposed… vulnerable. Just how he always felt when Armie was around him.

 

_Timmy_

“Armie.” He grabbed at Armie’s hair; the soft short stands catching between his fingers as Armie trailed kisses along the sensitive skin at his thighs. “Armie.” He stroked his cock with a too large hand, tongue licking him from tip to head. “Armie.” His wet mouth trailed kisses lower, sucking one ball then the other into his mouth, tongue flat against the loose skin.

 

“Do you want me to stop him… it?” That was Ansel, he opened his eyes briefly, catching his gaze and feeling utterly ruined… naked, legs spread, cock hard and flushed. He could only manage one shake of his head, eyes watering as he pushed at Armie’s head, urging him to go lower. He closed his eyes, moaning as Armie’s tongue poked at his perineum.

 

One hand was stroking him, the other spreading him open as Armie licked his asshole, thumb stretching the tight ring of flesh and Timmy relaxed, taking shallow breaths. He let out a sob as Armie’s tongue went rigid, fucking into him until he could feel stubble scratching his flesh. Armie’s thumb pushed deeper, sliding next to his tongue and stretching Timmy so open that he was begging, fucking his ass down onto Armie.

 

“Armie.” Timmy’s mouth was captured in another deep kiss, teeth biting at his lips, strong arms pushing and spreading his thighs until they were wrapped around Armie’s lower back. He felt the blunt tip of his cock pushing against him, asking for entry. Timmy relaxed, pushing down and wincing as his body stretched to accommodate Armie’s girth.

 

Soft kisses trailed his neck as he took a moment to breath, not moving. The hand on his cock stroked him faster and as he lost himself in the over-stimulation, Armie started pushing deeper. Timmy felt his toes curls at the long drag of hard flesh thrust into him. He felt is muscles spasms, fluttering around Armie’s cock as his thighs tensed.

 

_Timmy_

A hand pulled at his hair as he thrust down, impaling himself to the root on Armie’s cock. Hips pushed and pulled, rutting against him as they found a rhythm that made Timmy see stars, vision blurring with tears. “Armie.”

 

How many times had he imagined this? Days spent tangled in bed with Armie completely naked, their limp cocks nestled between them, Armie whispering jokes to him, anecdotes about kissing Leo and touching him so gently.

 

He wasn’t going to last long, he could feel his orgasm build, and his balls tightening as he fucked up into Armie’s palm, once, twice, his seed staining his stomach as his limbs tensed and relaxed, loose as Jell-O as he fell back to the bed.

 

He took a moment to breathe, suddenly feeling cold as Phantom Armie did his disappearing act once again. It didn’t last long as something warm was thrown over his naked body. He opened his eyes, met Ansel’s eyes… or at least tried to. Ansel was resolutely trying to look somewhere just over Timmy’s shoulder.

 

Suddenly realizing he just put on an entire show, Timmy wrapped the blanket around himself, cheeks heating at the thought. “So, the Ibbur?” Ansel asked, settling back on the chair. Timmy was almost glad Ansel didn’t have the usual biting comment ready for him even though it might have lightened up some of the tension in the room.

 

Fuck. “I guess there’s really only one way out of this.” Timmy suddenly felt too tired for all of this, curling up in the tiniest ball he could manage with his six-foot body. Every road and shortcut he had taken, trying to figure out a way to live his life since Armie, had led him here. His options whittling down to this; tell Armie he loved him and risk it all or never tell him and literally spend his life forever cursed.

 

_Is it better to speak or to die?_

 

 


End file.
